Work Text:
Mia woke up at her desk to the smell of coffee. Blinking open her eyes as she sat up, she noticed that a steaming white mug had been set down between stacks of papers, the papers themselves stacked neatly to avoid being splashed.
How long had she been asleep? She looked out the window– the soft orange light of evening cast everything in muted hues, throwing long shadows on every surface. Golden hour. The office’s senior attorneys had probably gone home already. Mia hoped she wouldn’t have to lock up by herself.
She stood up to yawn and stretch, noticing as she did so that an extra article of clothing fell onto the chair. Curious, she picked it up– it was a tan waistcoat with vertical stripes at the front. Diego must have noticed that she was asleep and draped his waistcoat over her. A warm feeling erupted in Mia’s chest at the thought and she carefully folded the garment before setting it down on her co-worker’s chair.
Taking a deep whiff of the coffee, she picked it up and took a sip– it was bitter with a hint of sweetness, just the way she liked, and still warm. Was there anything Diego wouldn’t do for her?
Three years into the coma, Mia wished there were.
She visited the hospital once every few weeks, bringing a bouquet and a thermos mug with a cup attached. After putting the flowers in a vase, a splash of yellow against sterile white, she sat down in the chair beside Diego’s bed and poured half the contents of the mug into the attached cup, setting the remainder beside him and pretending that this was one of their coffee dates.
“Hey, kitten,” she said, relishing the irony of using his favorite nickname for her. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I’d visit more, but work has been kind of busy lately.”
She took a sip of the coffee. She’d made it black, unable to add cream without seeing that bottle necklace twisting open, a slender hand passing over the cup as the added liquid disappeared into the depths, that poisonous smirk as the witness stand was sprayed with blood. The image had been haunting her somewhat less over the last two years with Dahlia serving her death row sentence, but Mia’s taste had grown bitter over that time.
“I’ve been busy training my new subordinate,” she explained. “Remember the kid Dahlia was dating who she tried to frame for murder? He passed the bar about a month ago, and just last week, he had his first trial.” She took a swig of coffee, trying to imagine what Diego would say in response. “It was one of the easier ones, that’s for sure, but I can already tell Phoenix is going to be a great lawyer. He has the same spark in his eyes that you always did.”
Presently, Diego’s eyes were closed as he lay in his white hospital bed surrounded by beeping machines. The doctor had told Mia that he’d suffered eye damage from the poison. Not total blindness, but his vision would likely never be the same.
On a lighter note, however, the doctor had also said something about bringing him out of the medically induced coma within the next month. “I miss you,” Mia said. “I left my number on the card with the flowers. You’ll call me when you wake up, won’t you?”
“My dear Miss Fey, I am so very sorry.” Condescension dripped from Redd White’s voice as he cradled the Thinker statue between his hands. “But I am afraid I must ask you for one more thing. Your eternal silence…” Grasping the statue in both hands, he raised it over his head. “Farewell, Miss Fey.”
Mia barely had time to react, running toward the door as White swung and faintly registering the sound of shattering glass. He lifted the statue to swing a second time. If she could just get around the couch…
But before White could swing, a second shattering noise rang out, followed by a horrible scream. From her hiding place behind the couch, Mia saw the Thinker fall to the floor and quickly snatched it up. White was roaring in pain, his obnoxious pink suit stained with a pungent brown liquid. Coffee?
“What the–” White spluttered, brushing shattered fragments of something from his suit jacket. “Who goes there? What is the signification of all this?”
“That’s a question I should be asking you,” answered a weary voice. “What were you doing just now, swinging that thing at my Kitten?”
That voice… Mia hadn’t heard it for the better part of three years, only hearing it on the phone since her last visit to the hospital, but there was only one person it could possibly belong to, only one person who called her Kitten. She hadn’t been allowed to visit over the last several weeks he’d spent in physical therapy. Was he already cleared to leave?
Gingerly, she got to her feet. White lunged at her in a rage, but with a well-aimed kick, he was kneeling on the floor, wailing.
Diego– because it could only be him, even if she could barely see him beyond the three red lines of his visor– grinned as he positioned himself between her and the purple-haired assailant. “Not bad,” he remarked. “I’ll hold him down. You call the cops, alright?”
Too frozen in shock to speak, Mia nodded and darted out to the reception area, holding the Thinker in a white-knuckled grip. She heard the sound of continued fighting, but ignored it as she dialed the emergency number.
Soon afterward, White had been arrested and dragged away kicking and screaming by the police. Several officers had stuck around to document the trashed office and take statements from Mia and Diego. As soon as they were done giving statements, they were left in the reception area with strict orders not to enter the main office until the police were finished documenting the scene.
When they were left alone, Mia noticed blood dripping from Diego’s hand. “You’re hurt.”
Diego gave a short laugh. “You should’ve seen the other guy,” he said with a dismissive shrug. “What matters is that you’re safe. What bone did that scumbag have to pick with you, anyway?”
Mia shook her head. “I’ll tell you later. Let me see your hands.”
Diego held out his right hand and Mia examined it in the light. There was a bleeding gash across the palm and the beginnings of a few blisters around it, as well as bruises on the knuckles, not unlike how it had been at the end of her first trial. Between the desk slamming and the coffee mug he’d crushed, the injuries had been almost the same as what he had now.
Grabbing Diego by the wrist, Mia pulled him toward the bathroom where the first aid kit was. “Come on, Diego, the fight’s over. Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”
With only token resistance, he let Mia lead him to the bathroom sink and rinse the gash on his palm, wincing when she applied disinfectant and only relaxing once she’d secured a bandage around his hand and pressed a light kiss against it.
“You know,” Diego said, “after three long years, I didn’t think my bandaged-up hand would be the first place you’d kiss me.”
Mia looked up, still holding his hand between both of hers. She couldn’t see his eyes, but she could see that he had the same relaxed smile as he always had outside of court before.
“Maybe later,” she said. “I’m still coming down from the adrenaline rush of almost getting killed. Besides, Maya and Phoenix should be here soon.” Seeing the puzzled expression on the lower half of his face, she clarified, “Phoenix is my subordinate. I was planning to introduce him and Maya over dinner before… before all of this.”
The full impact of what had happened tonight finally hit her. Redd White had known where she was keeping those papers– had he been listening to her phone calls? Had he known everything she was planning tonight? And before she could hand off the evidence, he’d tried to… what would he have done if she’d handed off the evidence to Maya as planned?
Mia didn’t want to think about any of those possibilities. Instead, she wrapped her arms around Diego, pulling him in for a tight hug. His left hand settled against her back and steadied her.
“Would you want to join us for dinner?” Mia asked, consciously reminding herself that the danger was gone. “I haven’t told Maya you’re awake yet, she’ll be glad to see you again. And I think you’d like Phoenix. He reminds me a lot of you.”
Diego hummed affirmatively. “Sounds nice. But first, I want some real coffee. Blacker than a moonless night, hotter and more bitter than Hell itself.”
Separating from the hug, Mia poked her head out of the bathroom. It looked like the police were just finishing up. She could already hear what sounded like Maya shouting outside while an officer told her to wait.
“Sit tight at reception and I’ll make it for you,” Mia said, making her way to the kitchenette. “How about I pour it into a thermos? Maya’s outside and you know how impatient she gets when she’s hungry.”
Diego chuckled warmly as he sat down. Mia sighed in exhaustion as she put on a fresh pot of coffee. With how tiring the evening had been, she hoped Diego wouldn’t mind sharing this one.